


Salt and Stone: Spring Thaws

by Aithilin



Series: Salt and Stone [4]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Merpeople, Fluff, M/M, Waiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-20
Updated: 2019-01-20
Packaged: 2019-10-13 10:18:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17486300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aithilin/pseuds/Aithilin
Summary: It would be spring before Nyx saw Noctis again. He just had to wait out the winter.





	Salt and Stone: Spring Thaws

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LogicDive](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LogicDive/gifts).



It was spring before Nyx saw Noctis again. The winter had been spent watching the ice form over the damp stone walls and walkways of the city on the sea— watching the frost curl and coil across the windows in the wet, misty mornings. He had watched the mist and icy fog spread and move across the waters, and tried to spot the glow of the hidden Crystal buried in the frigid depths beneath the Maagho. He had watched the city close of layers and stairways, the damp and cold clinging to every surface and every bone as the tourists and romantics vanished for the season. 

Altissia’s population dwindled as the snows moved in. The shelter of the Cascading Walls gone as the winds shifted and cold waters chilled the city to the bone. The weathered stone shining with a deceptive wet sheen beneath the frigid daylight. The festive banners that covered the city were traded for waning ropes and guide lines across the stone walkways, the grains of scattered salt doing little once the chill had really set in before the ice— the virtue of the season driving people indoors away from the threat of a slip into the freezing waters. 

The nights were little better. 

Nyx could still see the stars reflected in the still waters. His door was shut and guarded against the cold of the night, his little boat’s mooring ropes frozen solid and iced into impenetrable knots he would need to cut of or wait for a thaw. 

He felt like he was hibernating with Noctis— buried beneath the frozen mud deep in the waters. Curled beneath the waves and icy fogs, lost in dreams of warmer waters. 

_Hey, big fish._

Selena texted him daily. Sent him pictures and packages and promises of warmer waters. 

_Hey, small fish._

Her daily messages were like a warming sunbeam breaking through the dull grey of the foreign winter. He could see the steam rising from mugs of hot chocolates in her pictures. He could smell the abundance of sugar and cinnamon remembered from years spent being kicked out of his mother’s kitchen— the heat of the oven and the lingering smells of warmer seasons clinging to the cold air around him. He asked her for recipes, borrowed Ignis’ own expertise and hands as the younger man fought off his own instincts to hide from the cold. 

_Care package is on its way._ Selena had promised him his share of the treats— pictures sent with excited texts and crowing promises of the coming feast. _That thing you wanted is in there too. Ma wants to know if you’re eating._

Nyx smiled as he checked his extra heaters, the warm glow in complement to his own ancient Altissean oven. The picture of the coffee cake was sent off without a second thought, phone aside as the series of responses announced their arrival as he stirred the melting milk chocolate set atop the stove. The cake cooled— imperfect in shape, uneven despite his trimming, but the rich scent of its warmth filling the small, damp apartment as he worked. 

He had until spring to get it right.

In his experiments, Ignis tested the final creations. He made recommendations and critiques, and reminded Nyx that Noctis accepted his offered of coffee for the warmth and the time spent lounging on the wet stoop of his apartment. But he tested each concoction faithfully and carefully, until Nyx realised that he was savouring the bitter coffees and the sweet creams as much as he savoured the plentiful mugs of coffee Nyx saw him with. 

Noctis’ sweet tooth in mind, Nyx shifted his experiments from away coffee and creams and butters. 

Winter passed in a haze. The morning mists left crystals of ice against his windows and steps until he stepped out and didn’t immediately slip on the sleek, shining coat of frost. By the time realised that the abused flower boxes scattered across the city were starting to bloom— that the guiding ropes on the hazardous bridges and walkways were being replaced with the festive banners and lines of flowers— he was already watching the waters for signs of life. The sun started to warm, rather than threaten chilly winds and deep freezes, and the spray of the Cascades no longer drove the returning tourists from the waters’ edge.

He had moved away from the bitter coffee and heated spice cakes with their heavy creams and heated chocolates. With the return of syrups to the markets, he found the old recipe his mother saved for spring treats and too-sweet dessert demands. 

He spotted the shimmer of the light on the midnight blue scales first; the flick of spray and the roll of water along a shimmering tail.

Heaters on their lower settings, Nyx smiled as he settled on the stoop to wait. His coffee steaming in the morning air and a little box tied with colourful Galahdian ribbon at his side. He had the sweet treat keeping warm in the oven— the sweet syrup of the pudding chomeur seeping out through his apartment, the light vanilla and the rich syrup and sugar already reminding him of home— and his mug cradled to warm his hands as he waited for the familiar sight he had missed all season. 

Noctis peeked first— pale, drawn, still bleary eyed from sleep. He slipped from the water beneath the boat, as if making sure that Nyx was really sitting there, really waiting as he had promised. Satisfied that he was no longer dreaming, Noctis pulled himself from the water and draped himself across the stoop and Nyx’s lap with a stretch. 

Most of the chill had finally left the city, a cacophony of drips from thawing ice left in its wake. But Nyx was not prepared for the cling of the wet creature crawling into his lap like a giant cat. 

“Good morning, little star.”

“Good morning, Nyx.”


End file.
